Replenished
by MegGonagall
Summary: Her unique way of being a beacon of light, to blast through the never-ending blackness, was the constant stream into your diminishing fountain of strength.


There were so many nights when you felt you couldn't carry on. Gryffindor courage be damned, you wanted to curl up into a ball and wait for the war to either end, or swallow you and everyone you loved up whole. Either way, it would be over and you would suffer no more.

The darkness was thick and all consuming, and it was nearly impossible to see even a flicker of light in the distance, yet everyone looked to you to lead the resistance. You were the fountain of strength that everyone greedily drank from, leaving you depleted and hollow. If your physical appearance reflected your insides, you would be nothing more than a brittle, walking skeleton- even the lightest breeze, you were sure, could have shattered you, reducing you to mere dust. However, you persisted. You had to.

You weren't positive if she knew, but she was the one who replenished the fountain. Once it was empty and dry, her unique way of being a beacon of light to blast through the never-ending blackness, was the constant stream into your diminishing fountain of strength.

Your flaming red hair represented the blazing fire in your soul, yet the air all around you became thinner as the days went on, and without oxygen fire could easily be extinguished. You feared that your fire was slowly burning out. She, on the other hand, burned steady and bright as the sun. She was constant warmth and heat - she kept your fire alive.

She was the only one who had ever seen you cry - the only one you would _let_ see you cry.

During the night when it was particularly difficult, you would sniffle softly in your makeshift bed. People were dying outside of the castle, loved ones were missing, also you knew it was only a matter of time until you and your family would need to go into hiding, considering your lot were the biggest blood-traitors there were. Your chest grew heavy, the air was thinning again - your flame feebly flickered.

Silently, she crawled in next to you. You felt her slight frame pressed against your back and watched her long blonde hair fan out over your side. Her steady warmth immediately soothed your lungs as you drew in a breath, like a woman who had emerged from being held under icy water for far too long.

Each time this had happened, neither of you said a word. Always the same, she would wrap a slender arm around your waist and gently comb her fingers through your hair. You couldn't describe the feeling, it was different than it had been with anyone before her, but something about the comfort from her weight, and the methodical rhythm of her fingers on your scalp made you feel safe and cherished. For a few moments each night it was like there was no war raging on at all.

Your eyes slowly closed; a lingering tear slid down your cheek. A delicate finger brushed it aside then replaced it with satin lips brushing softly against your skin.

You weren't quite sure what always led you to take things further. Maybe it was the overbearing loneliness, fear or the uncertainty of living through another day. Or maybe there had always been feelings for her buried deep down, just simmering beneath the surface. But none of that mattered in those moments.

None of that mattered when you had lifted your arm, wrapped your hand in her hair and gently guided her to your lips. None of that mattered when you had felt her return the pressure. None of that mattered when you had shifted your weight and turned to wrap your arms around her, then pressed against her so tightly, you felt for a moment that you were melded into one being. The only thing that had mattered was the strength you were drinking from her, filling you up with something you hadn't felt until those moments - hope.

Harry never strayed far from your thoughts, however he had strayed far from you. You hoped that he wouldn't begrudge you this. The physical touch that you craved, that you ached for, in order to ground you. To remind you that you were still there and still fighting. And that there were things still worth fighting for.

Before anyone could have noticed, you both pulled back from one another. Your heart was racing and for a second you didn't give a damn who might have seen, you just knew you needed more. A knowing smile crept across her porcelain face; she shook her head with a low chuckle. You knew she could be quite strange at times, but that was one of the things you loved about her. It was one of the things that made her so essential to you during the terrible months in the castle. It was what kept you going.

She placed a sweet kiss to your forehead, before returning to her previous position, and once again stroked your hair.

"Sleep well, Ginny," she whispered in a tone that was far less dreamy than you'd ever heard from her. Then she snuggled in closer to you.

A wave of shock struck you at the sound of her voice, and you realized perhaps she wasn't just reenergizing _you_ by crawling in with you each night, but just maybe, you were doing the same for her.

"You too, Luna," you said, before taking her hand, and intertwining your fingers together.

You revived a gentle squeeze in response and a rare smile tugged at your lips. It was another day you'd both survived.


End file.
